The candle in the library of Alkazar burned all night, as its wax dripped away.
Scrolls sprawled over the large stone table scrawled with lost languages and cryptic symbols, and in the depths of these files, was Ezrahl's weary face.
"They captured all the suspects," Ahzure said, pushing a warm cup of tea towards Ezrahl.
He rested his head over his hand, and curiously watched the other.
"Do you still want to research more?"
Ezrahl said nothing, too absorbed in a leather-bound gilded book. His deep gaze intently read down the page.
"Remember that strange man captured in your castle?" Ahzure heaved a deep sigh, "Apparently he was returning from Dragonstone peak. He is one of the bandits, sour towards both the dragons and the wolves."
This finally made Ezrahl raise his eyes.
The light of the candle softly danced in Ahzure's gaze as he smiled sadly.
